


Beyond Denial

by UrsulaAngstrom



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4694732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaAngstrom/pseuds/UrsulaAngstrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story I wrote about Hutch's birthday for a friend back in August of 2003.  David Soul's birthday was August 28th but I figured posting this now would be better late than never.  Enjoy!  Ursula</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Denial

Beyond Denial

by Ursula Angstrom

 

Hutch was not looking forward to turning 40 despite all his "Age is an Attitude: If You Think Young, You Stay Young" jive. If you believed that, you'd be excited about your birthday, Babe. You wouldn't be walking down the beach looking like a lost soul just because you won't be 39 anymore in a few hours.

Hutch was so lost in thoughts that were obviously depressing him, Starsky could feel his partner's melancholy from a distance. He knew it was partially his fault that Hutch had a case of The Blues on the night before his birthday, but it couldn't be helped. He'd been working on a Birthday Surprise for weeks that required lots of his time and attention. 

Starsky had been working on this project every chance he could for the last six months. Determined to get it done in time for Hutch's Birthday, Starsky had spent every spare moment he could working on the surprise--especially during the weekends. Hutch had hardly seen his partner at all during off duty hours for the past six weeks. Being separated from Starsky under these circumstances made Hutch very curious but also very lonesome.

Lost in the thoughts that had been haunting him like ghosts, Hutch didn't see his partner approaching him. Hutch was too busy dwelling on the things that he didn't have to appreciate the beauty of the ocean at night. He looked at the frothy whitecaps surging beneath the moonlight but he wasn't paying any attention to them. 

The ocean had become background noise. 

When Hutch ignored the waves lapping at his feet that meant he was brooding about something that was troubling him on many levels.

Starsky had went through a bout of the Turning 40 Blues himself right before his birthday in March, but even then he was working on Hutch's Birthday Surprise, so it took the edge off the inadequacies that tormented him in the lonely hours of the night.

By the time he was 40, Starsky had always thought he'd be married with at least one child.

He had the mortgage-- because he'd bought the treehouse--but he still felt like a bachelor because he continued to rent out the downstairs apartment. The dwelling was his, but he still shared it with strangers. That way, the monthly mortgage payment was made every time he cashed his tenant's rent check. 

Hutch had bought Venice Place years ago too. He'd been doing the same thing. Letting the rent he charged to lease the business property downstairs pay the mortgage and maintenance expenses. The only difference was, Hutch had confiscated the apartment across the hall for his own use and renovated it to suit his needs. Starsky had been the last tenant to live across the hall from Hutch. After Gunther's hit, Starsky had recuperated at Venice Place for almost 18 months. 

During that time, he and Hutch had grown so close their souls had intertwined. Sharing the same space for so long-- 24 hours a day, 7 days a week--showed them both how compatible they were on many levels. Arduous though that time period was for both of them; the fires of adversity became a forge in which their love for each other was honed like steel. 

Every setback was like the blow of a blacksmith's hammer. Starsky took his lumps and let anger and determination mold his iron will like a sword being thrust into hot coals. With Hutch by his side to hold him and soothe him, Starsky was able to stay motivated to overcome injuries that should have sidelined him to desk duty for the rest of his career.

Together they did what all the doctors said would be impossible. They got Starsky back on the streets where he belonged.

Going back to living in separate homes was the hard part. 

Trying to pretend they were still the same swinging bachelors of old had made them both feel like hypocrites.

Starsky realized months ago that the only thing missing in his life that he really wanted was Hutch. Being separated from Starsky while Starsky was working on his Birthday Surprise had made Hutch realize that he felt the same way about Starsky. 

Where are you Starsk? I miss you! Hutch mused in abject melancholy. My birthday starts in a couple of hours and you are off working on that damn surprise!

Hutch was not in the mood for a party, and he was very afraid that some kind of an elaborate party with lots of people and presents was what Starsky had been working two jobs to pay for. 

I don't need any of that, Starsk. All I need is you. Right here, right now, walking by my side on the beach. That's enough for me, even if we can't hold hands.

That's all I really want for my birthday, Hutch thought. To be alone with Starsky somewhere private where I can give him a hug and not have to worry about people staring at us and thinking things that aren't true but I wish they were.

Hutch missed waking up in the middle of the night to find Starsky nestled in his arms like a teddy bear.

The nightmares began after the doctors started weaning Starsky off the potent painkillers that made him delightfully loopy for so many weeks. Those painkillers helped Starsky get the copious amounts of deep, dreamless sleep he needed to heal. The trauma of getting shot by Gunther's assassins was bad enough, but the whole ordeal awakened the sleeping kraken of post traumatic stress syndrome that had slumbered in Starsky's psyche for years. Nightmarish memories of combat in Vietnam, and the time he'd spent in a POW camp, were dredged from the depths of Starsky's subconscious like lava from a dormant volcano. 

The first night Starsky woke up screaming Hutch dashed into the bedroom, pulled his frightened partner into his arms, and stubbornly refused to let Starsky go until he dozed off again. When Starsky was semi-conscious, Hutch eased him onto the bed and tucked him in. Then he reluctantly went to his own bed through the door the contractors had cut in the wall between the adjoining walls of the apartments at Venice Place.

Apprehension kept Hutch awake as he listened to Starsky thrashing restlessly in his sleep. When he stirred, Starsky made grumbling noises that were indicative of both physical pain and psychological distress. Starsky slept fitfully that night and woke up frequently. 

Hutch was by his side in a trice every time Starsky got out of bed to roam around like a caged tiger. 

Just remembering the love and affection they shared in the wee hours of that fretful night filled Hutch's heart with more joy than remembering the afterglow of any love making session with his girlfriends…

 

Irritable but self-conscious, Starsky apologized when Hutch intercepted him on his way out of the bathroom. Hutch couldn't banish the nightmares, but he could give Starsky a hug. Carefully wrapping his arms around his partner’s wounded body, Hutch gave his best friend a long, lingering hug that was both tender and reassuring.

The hug made Starsky smile--but it was an embarrassed, contrite smile--Hutch noticed when he saw Starsky's reflection in the mirror above the dresser. 

Raking his fingers through Starsky's tousled curls soothed them both.

"Sorry I'm keeping you awake, Babe," Starsky mumbled

"What's wrong?" Hutch murmured into those warm sweaty curls as he held Starsky close in that tender careful hug.

"Memories are invading my dreams and taunting me," Starsky grumbled. "Fair Warning: I'm like bear being poked by a stick when that happens, Hutch. It pisses me off. If I get surly, I'm not mad at you. Okay? I'm mad at me and I'm mad at them. If I snap atcha, call me Turtle, and I'll shut up."

"No way, partner. The last thing I want you to do is turtle into some kind of a macho shell while you're dealing with shit I can't understand because I'm not a mind reader. I'm your friend and I'm here to help.”

"Talk to me, Starsk," Hutch crooned, melting Starsky's stubborn resolve when he gently caressed those adorably scruffy cheeks. 

When Starsky's eyes suddenly narrowed and got hard with suppressed anger, Hutch knew that something from his past as a combat vet in Vietnam was bugging him. Starsky wasn't allowed to talk about his experiences during the war with anyone but an Army psychiatrist who had the appropriate national security clearances. Starsky was ex-Special Forces. Details of the covert ops he participated in were known by only a handful of individuals in the upper echelons of the Army, the CIA, and the White House. Members of that elite unit were not allowed to discuss their experiences with civilians. Hutch knew that, and it annoyed the Hell out of him!

Starsky had to edit everything he said, keeping details to a bare minimum, so there was a limit to how much catharsis he could achieve under the circumstances. Starsky would rather die than commit treason in even the smallest of ways. 

What little he did say tore Hutch apart. So it probably WAS best that Starsky was forbidden to tell him all the grisly details. Hearing Starsky say, "My ribs still hurt, so I can't roll onto my side. Every time I try to, the pain wakes me up and I get angry. There are still enough drugs in my system to make me disoriented. For the half-second that I'm not coherent enough to remember where I am, I think I'm back in that cage in the camp. I couldn't turn over then either, and I usually sleep on my side."

Starsky's succinct explanation chilled Hutch to the core of his soul. 

Hutch had seen pictures of the Vietcong's Bamboo Maidens in graphic photos published in various magazines during the war. Modeled after the Iron Maidens that were created during The Spanish Inquisition, the bamboo cages kept captured soldiers pinned to the ground surrounded by spikes that covered them like a sadist's canopy. Exposed to insects, the elements, and the added indignity of being tormented by cruel captors who hated them because they were the enemy; Starsky--and others like him--had been forced to lie immobile on the ground for days: beaten, blindfolded, naked, and trapped. Unable to do anything but wrap his fingers around the stakes near his knees--and try to claw his way out with nails that bled copiously because they were full of splinters--Starsky lay there in the sweltering jungle wondering if he'd be rescued before they killed him. 

Trying to kick his way out of the cage would have been futile: because his ankles were tied to the posts that formed the bottom of the cage. A mesh that contained shards of broken glass had been sewn into the soles of his feet to hobble him in case he did manage to escape. An event that was unlikely because the stakes of those cages were driven so far into the ground they were as study as railroad spikes. 

When Starsky was captured he wasn't taken to one of the camps that the North Vietnamese reported so that no one could accuse them of violating the Geneva Convention. Starsky was taken to one of the many unreported POW camps where the Vietcong tortured and killed men who'd been listed MIA. 

Starsky was one of the lucky ones who'd been rescued before they raped and murdered him.

What Hutch knew about those clandestine Vietcong camps he'd learned about from magazines, not from David Starsky. 

All Starsky ever said about the experience was: "The cage made me feel like Gulliver when he was captured by the Liliputians. I couldn't move and my captors were a lot meaner than those little people in Jonathan Swift's story. Lucky for me the perverts who captured me were superstitious. They took one look at my circumcised cock and started cursing. They wouldn't rape anyone who was cut, but God help you if hadn't been circumcised. They'd tear you apart if your cock still had a hood."

Holding Starsky's beautiful body in his arms with abject gratitude, Hutch was thankful for those superstitions, but he still wanted to track those Vietcong bastards down and kill them for torturing Starsky in that sweltering jungle. He also wanted to kill Gunther for the injuries he'd inflicted on the valiant too-thin body that could barely stand upright because Starsky was so exhausted. 

As he held Starsky close, tenderly pressing the weary dark head against his shoulder, Hutch listened to his partner yawn and nearly wept when Starsky hugged him back. 

Weary and agitated, Starsky was a restlessly cuddlesome delight to comfort in the moonlit darkness.

"Wanna sleep in my bed?" Hutch murmured as he draped his arm around Starsky's shoulders and led him through the archway that allowed them easy access to both bedrooms.

"Sure, Goldilocks. What'd ya have in mind?" Starsky quipped.

At the time Hutch just chuckled, thinking Starsky was making one of his usual goofy jokes. But now, as he sat down on a boulder and looked at the stars sparkling above the ocean, Hutch wondered if he could have done something friskier than give Starsky a one-armed hug and say,  
"If you promise not to get crumbs in my sheets, I'll bring you a bowl of cereal. Then we'll see if a big blond dream catcher will be able to chase your nightmares away. The dream catcher you bought at the mall seems to be broken."

Starsky had always been fascinated by Native American Indian folk art. The previous week, when they ambled through the Bay City Mall, Starsky asked Hutch to push his wheelchair towards a kiosk that was selling feathered hoops that looked like they had a spider web suspended in the center circle. The vendor explained that the totem was based on an old Indian belief that Grandmother Spider would keep nightmares from entering your mind by trapping them in the web of a dream catcher if you hung one over your bed.

Enchanted by the vendor's fanciful tales of Grandmother Spider spinning the web that keeps the clouds of earth from floating into space--and taking all the life-giving oxygen with them--Starsky impulsively bought the dream catcher while his imagination was grooving with legends that filled his heart and mind with childlike wonder.

Reluctant to believe that magic was a fable, Starsky smiled winsomely but wearily, and said, "Maybe I did something to piss off the invisible spider that's supposed to take up residence in the web of my dream catcher."

"Like what? Have you challenged Athena to a weaving duel lately?"

"Huh?"

The vendor had promised that nightmares would get trapped in the dream catcher before they could sting you; like hapless bees snared in mid-flight. Starsky loved to listen to legends like that, so Hutch smiled and told his partner another legend as a bedtime story while he tucked his sleepy friend into his bed.

"Once upon a time--in Ancient Greece--there was a princess name Arachne who was arrogantly proud of her skills as a weaver. One day she presumptuously challenged the goddess Athena to a weaving duel. So they set up their looms in the Town Square and proceeded to create wondrous tapestries. The villagers liked Arachne's tapestry better. Athena was not pleased. In a fit of jealous rage Athena turned Arachne into the world's first spider."

"Cool… " Starsky murmured as he snuggled into the sheets that smelled like Hutch. 

"I didn't know Athena was a sorceress," Starsky mumbled as he yawned again. "I thought she was a kick-butt female war goddess who protected Athens."

"She was, but her hobby was weaving. Apollo did something similar to a mortal man named Thamyris when he boasted that he could play the lyre better than Apollo could. Apollo used magic to make the guy blind and mute."

"Mean…" Starsky murmured sleepily as he watched Hutch wander into the kitchen to make him a bowl of cereal. Starsky couldn't see him but he could hear Hutch just fine through the archway that allowed easy access to the kitchen from the bedroom. 

"I guess this is my comeuppance for braggin' about my looks or somethin'," Starsky mumbled as he looked at the maze of livid scars visible beneath the hair on his chest. The scars on his back were much worse because that's where the bullets had drilled holes into his body. The faint scars on his chest were from incisions made to remove the bullets out of his vital organs.

"No it's not!" Hutch snapped, splashing milk from the bowl of cereal onto the bedding as he recoiled indignantly. "This is about an evil man trying to get away with murder and failing, Starsky. Gunther would like to believe he's god, but he's not. That's why none of this will be permanent. Unlike his incarceration."

Voice softening as he caressed Starsky's curls, Hutch gently touched the scars on Starsky's chest and said: "Gunther is a criminal. We took him down. He tried to take us out to prevent that. He failed. While he rots in jail wishing he was anywhere but there, we are free to come and go as we please and send our friends post cards from Hawaii."

"Let's do that," Starsky murmured after he swallowed a spoonful of Frosted Flakes.

"As soon as you're well enough to travel," Hutch promised.

By the time Starsky was well enough to travel he was going stir crazy! He needed the change of scenery and he enjoyed the modified routine. What he enjoyed most about their cruise to Hawaii was spending so much time alone with Hutch in such a romantic setting.

The majesty of the sea was all around them for days. They got up early so he could do laps before the pools got too crowded. Hutch helped him with his physical therapy as usual and he got even more exercise as they meandered around the big ship exploring the huge vessel. 

The food was tasty and plentiful. His appetite came roaring back and he over-indulged a bit. But he needed to gain some weight back--and so did Hutch--so they grazed on food throughout the day. "Now I know why cows look so content," Starsky told Hutch on more than one occasion. "This is fun! MOO!"

"Sea cow," Hutch quipped, hooking his thumb at his partner when someone walked by and looked at them strangely.

Starsky was used to eating as much food as he could as fast as possible at least once a day. Gobbling down food when he was on duty or rushing around after work was not as pleasing as munching on a bite or this or a part of that while he meandered around a huge ocean liner.

"Maybe we should retire and work on a cruise ship, Hutch. You could be the Captain and I could be your First Mate. What do First Mate's do, Sea Scout?"

Hutch answered his question with a smile as radiant as the sunset they were watching off the bow of the ship as they lounged in wooden deck chairs sipping tropical mixed drinks. The technical explanation of what First Mates did on modern day sailing vessels was not half as interesting as the tales Hutch told him about what First Mates did on ancient sailing vessels.

As he stealthily snuck up on Hutch while he sat on that rock looking at the ocean, Starsky gleefully remembered how sly and expectant Hutch looked when he asked, "Why do sailors call that position First Mate, Hutch? Why didn't they call that guy Second in Command, Major of the Mast, or Wheel Master?"

"Wheel Master?" Hutch giggled.

"Yeah."

"The guy who steers the ship with the wheel is the helmsman, Starsk."

"I know that," Starsky grumbled. "So why do sailors call the second in command First Mate, Hutch?"

Hutch blushed as he looked out to sea and said, "Because First Mates were often the Captain's best friend or his lover, Starsk. Ideally, the Captain would hope the man would be willing to become both during the journey, because men were at sea for months at a time and it was considered bad luck to bring a woman on board a sailing vessel."

"So sailors were always looking for a sea-going version of Hephaestion, Alexander The Great's best friend and lover," Starsky concluded. 

"Especially if they were pirates," Hutch said, making a less than veiled reference to the infamous ancestors in his family tree who'd amassed the Hutchinson fortune by plundering coastal villages all over the world.

"That would have been fun!" Starsky rambled wistfully. "You and me sailing the Seven Seas! Robbing from the rich and giving to the poor… Breaking hearts-and hymens-in the jolly old days of yore."

Starsky waited for Hutch to say something more provocative but all the bashful blond did was laugh heartily.

Then as now, Starsky looked at his best friend and thought: Who are you trying to kid, Blintz? You want me as much as I want you, but you're afraid to make the first move because you think you're jinxed.

You're as superstitious as your sea-faring ancestors Hutch. One ex-wife and lots of ex-girlfriends does NOT make you a bad romantic risk. Give me half a chance and I'll prove that to you.

"Boo!" Starsky shouted when he was right behind the rock Hutch was sitting on.

Startled, Hutch yelped, roared, and chased him blissfully down the beach after he almost tumbled off the boulder.

"Damn you Starsky! I'd like to live to see sixty, you know!"

"You're gonna live until you're one hundred and ten, remember?"

"One hundred and twenty," Hutch corrected as he slowed down and walked towards his smiling partner. 

"Happy Almost Birthday, Blintz." 

Reminiscing about the conversations they'd shared after Hutch survived a mysterious plague made them both smile. So did looking at the pocket watch they'd shared during a shootout ordeal in an Italian restaurant years ago.

Taking his pocket watch out of his pants pocket, Hutch opened it, read it in the moonlight, and said, "You made it just in the nick of time, Starsk. It's 11:53."

"I told ya I'd be here on time," Starsky gloated. "We always ring in our birthdays at midnight; just like New Year's." 

Drinking beer on a public beach was illegal, so Starsky had come prepared with other beverages for toasting. He'd tucked one can of ginger ale in one pocket of his windbreaker and a can of root beer in the other. Popping the top on the can of ginger ale first, he handed it to his partner with a smile, then he popped the top on his root beer.

Touching their cans together, Starsky smiled and said, "Here's to being 40 together."

Hutch laughed, touched his can to Starsky's exuberantly, and said, "That's the only thing that'll make it bearable, Babe."

The compliment made Starsky melt. Together they sat down side-by-side in the sand and watched the surf trying to lick their toes.

They watched the hands of Hutch's pocket watch tick away the remaining minutes until it was midnight. Then Starsky looked at his friend and said, "YES! Now I can give you your surprise! Come on!"

Content now that Starsky was with him, Hutch laughed, put the watch back in his pocket and let Starsky give him a hand up. 

Starsky didn't give a damn who saw them or what they thought, he gave Hutch an impulsive excited hug and said, "Wipe the sand off your butt, Blintz. Otherwise the chauffeur'll have to vacuum out the back of the limo."

"Wha-ttttt?!" Hutch sputtered, coughing as he choked on a thirst-quenching swig of ginger ale.

Concerned, Starsky stood by his side and kept patting his back while he hacked until he got his voice back.

"C'mon Cinderfella! It's midnight! If we don't get to that limousine quick we're gonna turn into pumpkins!" Starsky laughed, walking backwards as he impatiently cavorted in the sand, leading Hutch to their destination--a sleek silvery-gray limousine that was parked nearby.

Impishly warbling, "Happy Birthday To You! Happy Birthday To You! Happy Birthday, Ken Hutchinson! Happy Birthday To You!" Starsky embarrassed Hutch in front of the chauffeur. Hutch blushed as the chauffeur smiled at them.

Gallantly tipping his hat, the chauffeur said, "Happy Birthday, sir" as they got into the back of the anthracite gray limousine.

"Damn…." Hutch praised as he admired the luxurious interior of the car. "Where's the parade? I feel like the Grand Marshall of something riding in the back of this thing."

"Wait'll you see the balloons!" Starsky said, a half-second before he lowered the power window that separated the passenger sections of the stretch limousine. 

As soon as the window retracted, Hutch could see that the entire mid-section of the car was filled with colorful helium balloons!

Balloons that came floating towards them like merry apparitions when the breeze from the cracked windows created a current that made them waft--then tumble--into the confined space.

Rollicking with laughter, Hutch took the long stickpin that Starsky handed him and gleefully started popping balloons. The tiny explosions echoed like gunfire inside the car. A sound that reminded him of Starsky: because the noise was the very embodiment of his partner's defiant joy.

Only Starsky would make him pop balloons on his birthday so they could celebrate the joy Gunther had tried to take away from them in a way in a way that made them both laugh.

"Hey! These balloons are piñatas!" Hutch cheered when he saw something fall out of the red balloon when it popped.

He'd popped the red one first because red was Starsky's favorite color.

He also chose the red one because he was thinking naughty thoughts. Oh, how I wish I was popping your cherry, Starsk!

Blushing when he saw the cherry flavored Tootsie Pop on the floor of the limousine, Hutch wondered if Starsky was dropping hints as he picked up the lollipop and eagerly un-wrapped it.

"Wanna lick?" Hutch offered before he put it in his mouth.

They shared food all the time, so Starsky said, "Sure!"

Hutch handed him the lollipop but Starsky didn't take it out of his hand as Hutch anticipated. Instead, Starsky gently wrapped his hand around Hutch's wrist and held his partner's hand steady. Then he looked deep into Hutch's amazed eyes and slowly twirled his tongue around the knob of the lollipop like he was a porn actor swirling his tongue around the glans of a man's erect cock.

The impulsive erotic performance man Hutch tremble with longing.

"Thanks," Starsky purred, his voice sultrier than the smoldering expression on his handsome face as he reluctantly let Hutch go as the balloons kept nudging them comically.

Starsky's washboard abs spasmed with suppressed laughter as he watched the balloons shatter Hutch's composure even more every time they brushed against his face like butterfly kisses. 

Hutch reacted to the stimulation just like Starsky hoped he would. Every time the balloons nudged him impishly, Hutch was antagonized by the eroticism of his own thoughts.

It felt like the balloons were taunting him! Hutch could almost hear them whispering: "Whatcha gonna do about THAT? Huh? Huh? Whatcha gonna do?"

Flustered, Hutch tried to swat the balloons away like they were pesky flies but they bounced right back in his face like they were giving him a smooch by proxy. 

As soon as Starsky laughed, Hutch knew he was being seduced and it thrilled him.

The balloons were Starsky's co-conspirators covering his face and body with kisses first to see how he was going to react to the idea of such intimacy.

Gleefully poking the cherry lollipop into his mouth, Hutch tried to pop a few of the balloons with the stick of the lollipop. That was his way of letting Starsky know he was open to the idea of using anything as a prop or a sex toy if it would give them both pleasure and delight them in any way.

As usual, the unspoken Morse Code that allowed them to communicate without uttering a word worked flawlessly.

Starsky laughed and gently batted one of the balloons towards the stick to let Hutch know the feeling was very mutual.

Hutch got a raging hard on just imagining what that eloquent gesture implied. Starsky was letting him know that his ass and his heart was his for the taking if Hutch wanted to plunder his most intimate orifice tonight.

A quick flick of the wrist and Hutch was batting balloons out of his way so he could close the window between the limo compartments. The driver had already seen enough through his rearview mirror if he could see anything through the tinted glass behind his head.

Several of the balloons got caught in the window as it rose, but they popped from the pressure or Hutch impatiently popped them with the stickpin so they could have some privacy.

All the balloons were piñatas, Hutch soon discovered, when more tiny gifts rained down like Happy Birthday hail, showering him with affection and presents.

Balloons kissing his smiling face as he bent over to retrieve what had fallen onto the carpet, Hutch found himself holding a golden cufflink with an onyx inset in one hand and a penny from 1943 in the other.

"Penny for your thoughts, Partner."

Tangling his fingers in Starsky's plentiful dark curls, Hutch smiled at his best friend and said, "You make me glad I was born, Starsk." 

Pressing his forehead tenderly against Starsky's, while their bodies collectively quaked in anticipation, Hutch murmured the words, "Thank you," in a hot breathless voice that came from the depths of soaring heart.

After he tucked the penny in the left breast pocket of his shirt for safe keeping, Hutch laughed as he looked at the gleaming cuff link in his hand and said, "Where's the other one?" 

"In one of the other balloons. Keep popping them until you find it."

"Only YOU would hide presents in balloons Starsky. You are so much fun!"

A piece of bubble gum dropped out of the purple balloon Hutch popped next. Chortling raucously as he sucked on his lollipop again, Hutch had to take the candy out of his mouth one more time so he could talk.

Setting the piece of bubble gum on his knee expectantly, Hutch carefully wrapped the lollipop back up in the wrapper. After he gently tossed it onto the seat across from them, Hutch looked like he was melting inside as he said, "Aw, Starsk…" 

Then he tucked the piece of gum into the left pocket of Starsky's shirt before thanking him with a brief peck on the cheek.

Hutch loved bubble gum. It was his favorite candy. He chewed it often. Especially when they were on long stakeouts in the Torino. 

"Every time I chew gum from now on it will remind me of this," Hutch said, gesturing towards the balloons expansively, caressing them as they bounced around like Tiggers in the wind.

Reverently caressing Starsky's handsome face--as he longed to kiss that sexy little mole imbedded in Starsky's left cheek--Hutch said, "Every time I pop a bubble I'll remember popping these balloons."

Laughing again, Hutch joyously popped another red balloon and the other gold cuff link fell out.

"That makes two!" Hutch cheered.

Admiring them both as they nestled side-by-side in the palm of his hand, Hutch smiled at the gleaming jewelry and said, "Why am I having this premonition that there is a new dress shirt waiting for me in a box at our destination?"

"Because you're psychic?" Starsky quipped.

Starsky's grin was wry and playful as he watched Hutch enjoying himself immensely.

"Not likely," Hutch scoffed. "No clairvoyant would be able to predict this, Starsky."

Gently raking his fingers through Starsky's dark curls, Hutch said, "You have an incredible imagination. You are an overgrown kid in a man's body and I love being your favorite playmate."

"Good," Starsky gloated. "Because you're going to enjoy being my playmate even more if you let me make your wildest dreams come true, Hutch."

This time it was Starsky's fingers that were tangled in his hair and Hutch's heart lurched to a sudden stop when he saw the sexy gleam in those expressive cobalt-blue eyes.

Closing his eyes in abject surrender as soon as Starsky moved towards him, Hutch savored the sweet, evocative kiss Starsky gave him. As soon as their lips met, his horny partner pulled him close and held him tight. Returning the possessive hug was an erotic delight.

When the tender, questing kiss rapidly became a passionate mutual embrace, Hutch yanked Starsky's onto his thighs and Starsky eagerly straddled him like a male lap dancer.

No matter what position he was in, Starsky could move that magnificent body with compelling grace. Sap rising in his cock like lava inside a dormant volcano, Hutch's trapped erection surged towards imminent eruption as Starsky ground his yearning cock against the denim prison holding him captive. 

Frustration made Starsky growl in mid-kiss because a barrier of faded denim was holding his cock prisoner too.

Hands roaming ecstatically from curls to ass and back again, Hutch devoured Starsky's mouth with decadent abandon. Savoring every inch of the powerful undulating body surging in his arms Hutch plundered Starsky's mouth with his tongue, and Starsky reciprocated with wild glee. 

Caught up in the storm of passion, Hutch jubilantly rode every cresting wave of sensation as his body bucked against Starsky's like two sea horses mating.

Their cocks erupted like twin geysers going off at almost the same instant. Hutch cried out first; hot cum gushing out of his cock like water from the blowhole of a whale.

Fingers tangled in Hutch's hair, Starsky kept riding the waves of their passion to his own completion. Smiling triumphantly as he watched Hutch bask in the pleasure of orgasm; the sight detonated Starsky's balls like bombs going off! Because he knew he was responsible for the bliss suffusing that handsome face with sublime contentment.

Clinging to each other desperately as they savored the aftershocks of their sex quake, Starsky buried his face in the right side of Hutch's neck and said, "You're mine now Hutch. I'm never letting you go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Hutch murmured. "I'm finally where I wanted to be, Starsk."

The tender words made Starsky melt like dark chocolate in his arms. Captivated by the sweet evocative kiss Starsky gave him, Hutch gradually released his muscular prize. He didn't want to let Starsky go at first, then his gorgeous lover smiled at him dreamily, and Hutch relinquished him with complete trust. 

"Ya make me feel boneless," Starsky rambled as stretched out on the floor and grabbed a pillow off the other bench seat so he could prop his back against the side door and enjoy the deliciously languid mood he was in right now.

Starsky looked incredibly sexy sprawled on the floor of the moving vehicle as he peeled off his windbreaker and his holster so he could cuddle Hutch without reminders of the day intruding to spoil the mood.

Tonight they were destined to become more than just cops and best friends. Tonight they were destined to become lovers and they both knew it. The time for denial had passed. They were beyond denial now. Nothing was going to keep them from making their dreams come true on Hutch's birthday. The reassuring scent of their spent cum mingling in the air like spoor of mating animals was arousing them both too much to deny their lust for each other. Their desire was very mutual and very welcome.

Hutch couldn't wait to sit down between those sexy bowed legs. The thrumming of the car felt wonderful beneath his backside and balls as they cuddled on the floor of the sleek purring vehicle. 

"Feels like we're in the belly of a tiger," Hutch murmured as Starsky nibbled on his neck and helped him out of his jacket and holster.

The vibrations of the car relaxed Hutch and aroused him at the same time; because Starsky was slowly unbuttoning his shirt and gently peeling it from his sweaty body with loving, reverent hands.

Hutch had never felt so treasured.

Starsky's mouth cast a spell over him as soon as that sexy tongue started doing figure eights around the moles on the side of his neck while Starsky gently plucked his nipples like harp strings through his shirt.

His body felt like music personified when he laid his head on Starsky's shoulder and reveled in the sensations only Starsky's hands could evoke inside him.

Writhing in his partner's arms was a joy Hutch wanted to savor for a lifetime.

Cocooned in Starsky's loving arms, Hutch felt like a big blond butterfly, evolving in a chrysalis of virility.

Hutch felt reborn as Starsky kissed his right shoulder, silently asked for permission he granted with a nod. 

Starsky made him feel like a king wearing royal robes as he reverently peeled him out of that half of his shirt.

A gentle nip on his left shoulder turned awe into laughter.

Hutch looked mesmerized--and Starsky was delighted--but he wanted Hutch aroused, not entranced.

He got his wish as soon as he let his hands roam the silky smooth skin that covered that muscular chest like rose petals.

"Come here my Viking Rose," Starsky murmured, making Hutch shiver as that sexy voice purred against his neck.

Hutch loved flowers. It made him feel resplendent when Starsky called him a Viking Rose. 

"I can't believe all this rosy golden-pink flesh is mine," Starsky murmured breathlessly as he held Hutch close and let his hands roam his partner's body with wanton abandon. 

"Please tell me this is all mine," Starsky pleaded as he made Hutch moan plaintively when he ran that covetous left hand over the burgeoning erection that was surging to life again in Hutch's cum stained jeans.

"All yours," Hutch gasped as he surged back into Starsky's possessive grasp as the gorgeous sorcerer captivated him with those sweet seductive lips.

"Every inch of it," Hutch vowed as Starsky swirled the tip of that hot tongue around the moles on the side of his neck in a way that branded him for life.

Yanking open his own jeans Hutch grabbed Starsky's hand and shoved it into his briefs until those strong, gentle fingers were wrapped around his throbbing cock like they were holding onto the reins of a bucking bronc.

"Fuck me Starsky!" 

Tumbling back into Starsky's arms when Starsky dipped him, Hutch laughed and felt glorious as he sprawled across his partner's lap like they were dancing sitting down again. 

Hutch tossed his head onto Starsky's bicep and let his hips surge towards that greedy hand without inhibition. Starsky pumped his cock incessantly while they kissed. Making him hot! Making him wild! Making him so crazy with lust Hutch begged Starsky to ravish him!

"Fuck me with your hand!" "Fuck me with your mouth!" Hutch cried out ecstatically between kisses.

Smiling wickedly, Starsky ravished Hutch jubilantly until that stallion-sized cock exploded in his hand like a rocket going off!

This time Hutch's cock was unsheathed. When his white-hot cum gushed out of his body in joyous, ball-wrenching spurts, Starsky grabbed him like a fire hose and sprayed everything in the back of the limo. Hutch felt like the world's biggest sex toy as his cum spattered balloons, leather upholstery, wood trim and the smoky black windows while they laughed together like drunken fools even though they were stone-cold sober.

Sex with Starsky was a rollicking delight. Starsky's man-child playfulness made everything seem wondrous and fun. Hutch felt drenched and drained at the same time.

"Please tell me you're taking me somewhere private where we can be alone together for the rest of the month," Hutch murmured dreamily as Starsky cradled his long body with wanton glee.

They had the next four days off. Hutch wanted to spend every moment of that time making love to Starsky in astonishing ways like these.

"I'm all yours for the next four days Hutch. What do you plan to do with me?"

Rolling over slowly, carefully and seductively, Hutch smiled at Starsky like a horny cougar when he was crouched in front of him on all fours.

"I'm going to devour you, David-Michael-Starsky," Hutch promised between kisses. 

Long, delicious, savoring kisses that beguiled Hutch as much as they beguiled Starsky.

"Not until you take all those clothes off," Starsky replied wickedly. "Those are the terms of my surrender."

"I like your negotiation techniques," Hutch laughed, eagerly sitting back on his heels so Starsky could admire the length of his exposed cock. 

Starsky obviously liked what he saw, so Hutch sat down on the floor facing his friend so he could stretch out his long legs. 

After he let Starsky admire him from hip to toe, Hutch smiled at his partner wickedly and said, "Take off my boots."

"I thought you'd never ask, Cowboy."

Laughing with Hutch, Starsky lifted up one of the bench seats and took the camera out of the storage compartment like he was taking a toy out of a toy chest.

Blond hair flowing behind him like a palomino's cropped mane, Hutch threw back his head and laughed raucously as Starsky took several snapshots of him. Starsky loved watching his bashful blond cavorting half-naked with his cock flying. 

"God, you're beautiful, Hutch," Starsky murmured appreciatively. 

Hutch demurred and got a little skittish when the shutter clicked the first time, but Starsky kept talking to him in a low, sexy voice that was the soundtrack of Hutch's wet dreams.

"I told you to take off my boots, not take pictures," Hutch grumbled, self-consciously.

"And you honestly thought I would listen?" Starsky sassed. "The only time I do what you say is when you have a gun in your hand. Because you say 'Cover me!' and rush in where angels fear to tread. You don't give me a choice, Bonehead."

"Sorry," Hutch chortled.

"No you're not. You're laughin'."

"I'm embarrassed!"

"Embarrassed of what? You aren't bare-assed yet."

"You're incorrigible."

"Tell me something I don't know," Starsky gloated as he took more photos.

"I feel like the kinkiest male model in the world right now," Hutch said.

"Was that a complaint or were you braggin'?"

"Both," Hutch laughed.

"Don't be shy, Babe. Just look at me and smile."

"Easy for you to say. You get to hide behind a camera."

"Let the balloons bounce Hutch. They want to play with you too."

One particular balloon kept bouncing off Hutch's exposed cock like it was using it as a diving board.

"That one is doing your telepathic bidding. Admit it!" Hutch teased.

"Yep. That one's as blue as my balls and I'm getting envious," Starsky said as he took another photograph.

"Would you let me lick you there too, Hutch?"

Hutch got very still, very quick. He looked awed when he said, "I'd be honored if you wanted to taste me like that, Starsk."

Laughing as he looked at the Tootsie Pop laying on the other seat while he remembered the famous commercial, Starsky said, "How many licks will it take to make a Hutchsicle hard enough to fuck my mouth?"

Groaning as those hot sexy words lit his body like a fuse cock-first, Hutch bit his lower lip and groaned orgasmically as he writhed on the floor of the limousine like a hustler in heat.

"Why don't you find out," Hutch moaned, eager to feel Starsky's insatiable mouth on his hard, aching flesh.

Hutch had never came three times in one night before but he was on the verge of coming again already just anticipating Starsky's tongue laving his cock.

Starsky slipped those cowboy boots off his legs so reverently, Hutch felt like he was Adonis when Starsky smiled at him and said, "I intend to, my Blond Adonis."

Starsky's smile was mischievous and adoring when he said, "Wriggle out of those jeans, Baby Blue. I wanna see you squirm."

"Squirm! What do you think I've been doing? The Hokey Pokey?"

Starsky loved Hutch's sassy wit, so he encouraged his modest partner with capricious kisses as he wrestled Hutch out of those tight jeans.

It startled Hutch to suddenly find himself prone beneath a man who was looming over him. But that man was David Starsky, so Hutch knew he was safe and very much loved.

"If I start going too fast, slow me down, Hutch. I've been waiting for this so long I might not be able to control myself," Starsky warned him as he looked at the naked body beneath him with eyes that were dark with erotic hunger.

"You're asking ME for help?" Hutch rebuked him indignantly. "That's like giving an alcoholic the keys to your liquor cabinet."

"I want you so bad it hurts, Starsk. One kiss and I'm craving you worse than I ever craved heroin. Do anything you want to me! Just do it NOW!  
Please!” Hutch begged him.

One searing kiss and Starsky knew Hutch wanted to be taken right there and then. 

The knowledge rippled through Starsky's body like a tidal wave of lust. His balls detonated spontaneously when Hutch yanked down his zipper and grabbed his cock with maniacal insistence.

"NO!" Starsky yowled when Hutch spread those long golden legs and offered himself without hesitation.

Starsky wanted to take him but he wasn't ready to take Hutch yet. So he balked when Hutch pulled his cock towards that vulnerable little opening that was as tightly furled as a rose bud.

Hutch's pubic hair was so pale and gleaming blond Starsky could see everything in the golden shadows that limned that creamy tanned skin.

Starsky could have claimed Hutch in a single thrust. The books he'd read said that was possible, but he was afraid he would accidentally hurt Hutch or himself. 

He'd never had sex with a man before and he didn't want to rush his first romantic encounter with Hutch.

It surprised him that Hutch wanted to be ravished so soon. Starsky wasn't prepared for the dark urges of the wild stallion beneath him. 

Shock bucked him off his blond bronco. 

Until Hutch clung to him desperately and trapped both their cocks between those greedy yearning hands.

"Don’t," Hutch whimpered, begging him not to recoil in disgust because he'd been so wildly impetuous.

In a heartbeat Hutch was frantic and on the verge of tears.

Eager to reassure Hutch--and slake the fires of his own raging lust-- Starsky gave his partner a deep, passionate kiss and gave in to the urge to hump Hutch with ruttish abandon. 

It felt glorious to feel their naked cocks rubbing against each other like two fire sticks. Starsky loved the way it felt to have his cock held captive between their muscular bellies.

They kissed each other so fervently they were breathless in seconds.

Dizzy with desire, Starsky jack-hammered until he came explosively all over Hutch's chest and belly.

Starsky was so frenzied by lust he felt like he was having some kind of sexual seizure. Hutch held him tight and muffled his cries with that ravenous mouth, but nothing could keep him quiet. Starsky wanted to fuck Hutch through the floor of the limo and he regretted not taking Hutch up on that magnanimous offer.

"That would have felt much better if you'd been inside me," Hutch murmured as he held Starsky close so they could both feel Starsky's hot cum matting those sexy dark curls that peppered his chest and torso.

Hutch reveled in erotic triumph of being slick with Starsky's cum. He felt as sleek as a dolphin and twice as happy as he kissed Starsky's sweaty forehead and said, "Your cum's all over me Starsky."

"So?" Starsky gloated right back. "I sprayed your cum all over the back of this limousine Hutch."

"Oh shut up and find my stick pin so I can pop another balloon."

"Yes, Master."

"Don't start something like THAT unless you intend to act like my love slave for days. I've had one too many fantasies about you and me acting out love slave scenarios. I'd love to use my birthday as an excuse to make you wait on me hand and foot wearing nothing but a thong," Hutch warned his playful partner.

Starsky just laughed, opened the bench seat like it was a toy chest again, rummaged around for a few seconds, and threw a series of thongs in his face.

"What color?" Starsky asked mischievously. "Black? Red? Blue? Purple?"

Laughing jubilantly as he played with the colorful thongs, Hutch said, "You've been planning this seduction for a while, haven't you?"

"I may not be a Sea Scout, but I ALWAYS make sure I'm prepared for romance," Starsky gloated.

"That's nice to know," Hutch murmured.

Hutch tensed as the limousine suddenly slowed down and stopped expectantly. The delay lasted longer than it took for a traffic light to change. Traffic sounds were suddenly distant mechanical murmurs.

"I think we're 'here', wherever that is," Hutch said, expectant but embarrassed because he was naked, Starsky was half-naked, and they both reeked of cum.

Sitting back on his heels, Starsky looked out the one-way glass eager as a puppy that had just heard a school bus.

"Yep! We're here!" Starsky announced excitedly.

Hutch heard the distant sound of a bell buoy and knew they were near a marina before he sat up and saw the harbor lights through the tinted glass too.

They twinkled like earthbound stars as he watched them glitter and reflect off the undulant water.

Captivating Hutch with another winsomely erotic kiss, Starsky smiled and said, "I'm taking you on a pleasure cruise, Babe. Slip that spankable ass into these white shorts and slip your feet into these deck shoes. Then put on a white shirt and leave it unbuttoned so everyone'll think I captured a moonbeam on my way over here."

Laughing lustily, Hutch said, "You're my kind of pirate, Matey," as he quickly cleaned up using towels and wet wipes from a dispenser Starsky had hidden in the bench seat/toy chest too. Starsky did the same and soon they were attired in their favorite sailing clothes. 

"What else have you hidden in this treasure chests on wheels, Starsk?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," Starsky sassed, looking rakishly handsome in denim cutoffs and an old blue shirt.

Five balloons were still bobbing around in the back seat of the limo. Hutch didn't want to open the doors and give them a chance to escape before he popped them.

Starsky acted like he was waiting for one of the balloons to reveal a special surprise so Hutch eagerly popped them one-by-one.

The first balloon he popped was a yellow one that contained a coupon redeemable for Breakfast in Bed--Made To Order By Chef David.

Hutch laughed and said, " I want the whole nine yards! Pancakes, eggs, bacon, juice and coffee."

"You got it, partner," Starsky promised.

"And if you're a good Birthday Boy," Starsky said, waggling his brows suggestively. "l'll give you the whole nine and a half inches for dessert."

"Please tell me you have a bottle of Magic Shell hidden in these toy boxes," Hutch said eagerly as he reached towards the nearest bench seat so he could peer inside.

He never got to open the seat. Starsky jumped up and sat down on the seat so it would stay closed. Then he stretched out his legs and put his feet up on the other seat so Hutch would get the hint not to open that treasure chest either.

"I brought everything but Magic Shell," Starsky admitted, smiling wickedly as he savored his partner's naughty imagination. "We can buy a bottle at the grocery store before we leave." 

"I LIKE the idea of watching you devour my chocolate-covered cock," Starsky praised as he raked his fingers through the luminous blond hair of his kneeling partner. Magic Shell was chocolate sauce that came in a squeeze bottle. It was formulated to harden on contact to form a chocolaty shell around whatever you squeezed it on.

"I LIKE the idea of devouring your chocolate-covered cock too," Hutch murmured as moved in between Starsky's legs again so he could cup the conspicuous mound of sinuous flesh his well-endowed partner had been blessed with.

"Don't start something we don't have time to finish here, Blintz. Pop another balloon," Starsky murmured between kisses.

"Yes, Master."

Starsky laughed heartily.

"Don't start that shit either, Hutch. You aren't the only one who's had decadent fantasies involving us as love slaves in costumes, pal."

"Really?" Hutch purred, eager to know what Starsky had imagined him wearing when he jerked himself off while he was having one of those fantasies. 

"What am I wearing--or not wearing--in your fantasies, Starsk?"

"Imagine yourself in a genie costume with me asking you to rub my magic lamp," Starsky replied succinctly.

Hutch LOVED that image! His lusty laughter gave Starsky hope that one day--very soon-- his gorgeous partner would agree to wear such an outfit for him while they played sex games. Starsky had always wanted to find a lover who would be willing to experiment with role-playing games in a sexual context. The excited gleam in Hutch's eyes gave him more than hope when handsome blond said, "Tell me more." 

Cupping Hutch's face between his hands, Starsky gave him another cherishing kiss and said, "Later. Pop another balloon, PC."

"PC?"

"Prince Charming."

The new nickname delighted Hutch.

Smiling radiantly, Hutch popped a green balloon.

A gift certificate to one of his favorite clothing stores was tangled in the remnants of the green balloon after it deflated. Starsky untangled it for him and gave it to Hutch with a smile and another kiss.

"Putting spurs in the balloons would have popped them," Starsky teased. Hutch never wore spurs but he often wore cowboy hats. "Buy yourself a pair of those and a new hat. I love how you look in cowboy hats, Hutch."

"I'll take you with me so we can pick out one we both like," Hutch promised, returning the kiss.

"Four more balloons to go, Babe. Pop another one."

'"Why do you spoil me like this Starsky?"

"Because one of your smiles make me feel good for a week. Pop the orange one," Starsky said, after Hutch gave him another kiss that made his bones melt.

"Pop!" Hutch said as he poked the pin into the balloon.

The balloon made a louder popping noise of course. A shower of confetti shaped like flower petals rained down on them like a ticker tape parade. On each petal Starsky had written the words Happy Birthday. Hutch wanted to pick them all up and save them all in a special box to cherish for a lifetime, but Starsky stopped helping him pick the petals up when he got bored. 

Hutch wasn't content with having both shirt pockets one tenth of the way full with birthday petals. He was determined to pick up every one of them until Starsky shushed him with kisses until he stopped obsessing.

"Stop," Starsky insisted, laughing as he intercepted Hutch's questing hands.

"No! I want them all!" Hutch insisted. The enchanted smile on his face was still there, but it had faded to a determined, distracted expression that began to worry Starsky when Hutch started treating the paper petals like they were snowflakes that might melt.

"They all say the same thing, Hutch."

Hutch would read the message on each petal and smile before he tucked it into his pocket.

"I know," Hutch murmured as he remained on his hands and knees picking paper petals off the seats and the carpet like he was kneeling in grass looking for four-leaf clovers.

"Then why do you keep reading them like they are fortunes that came out of a fortune cookie?"

"Because it's my birthday and it makes me happy."

"Okay," Starsky chuckled, remaining on his knees beside Hutch helping him pick up petals until he started getting exasperated again.

Impatient to move on, because he couldn't wait much longer to give Hutch his surprise, Starsky began to wonder if Hutch thought the balloon filled car ride was his surprise and that's why he wanted to make it last.

Distracting Hutch with a kiss as he ran his fingers through that sweat-damp blond hair, Starsky said, "This isn't your surprise, Hutch. This was just something I dreamed up to keep you amused on the way over here."

Resting his ass on his heels as he knelt on the floor of the limo, Hutch marveled at the man who'd just kissed him.

"That's why I want every last petal, Starsky. Only you would come up with an idea this unique and wonderful, then shrug it off like it's no big deal. It took you hours to make these petals."

"And it'll take us even longer to find them and pick them all up, Babe."

"So?" Hutch argued. Starsky smiled and chuckled.

"So… You're not being disrespectful of the effort just because you leave some of them behind, Hutch."

Shushing Hutch with another kiss, Starsky cupped the stubborn face he adored in his hands and said, "These petals don't come from one of those He Loves Me--He Loves Me Not Daisies, Hutch. You're NEVER going to end up with one of those He Loves Me Not petals, Ken. I've loved you from the day we met and I'm gonna love you forever."

Starsky seldom called Hutch by his first name, but it seemed right to do so at that moment. The loving emphasis of that simple word brought tears to Hutch's eyes, and the big mushball started to tremble, as too many feelings overwhelmed him at once. 

Tears rushing into his eyes too, as he pulled the sentimental blond into his arms, Starsky held Hutch close as Hutch tried not to cling to him and failed. 

Hutch was as tough as nails, but his heart was very tender and it had been stomped on one too many times. Starsky hugged him possessively when that long back heaved as Hutch manfully stifled a sob by trying to pretend that he was laughing. 

Starsky knew better, so he held Hutch close until the squall passed with barely a whimper; just some snuffling.

Starsky's perspicacity never ceased to amaze Hutch. The man could see through his façade in the span of a heartbeat and read his carefully guarded emotions like Braille.

Hutch was too afraid to explore the depths of his emotions and his thoughts at that moment. Panic seized his heart in the midst of picking up those petals. Hutch knew it didn't make sense, but he was afraid that everything would vanish--including Starsky--if he didn't have every one of those petals in his shirt pockets before he exited the vehicle.

Irrational fears seldom responded to logic. When you realize your thinking processes are screwed up, every thought in your mind becomes suspect. That's why he couldn't stop his compulsive behavior until Starsky gently made him stop. His insecurities were myriad. Self-doubt was running rampant inside him; trampling his confidence like a stampede of wild horses thundering across the valley of his soul.

"You haven't found your surprise yet, Hutch."

"Maybe. But I have everything I need is right here, Starsk"

Caressing Starsky's sultry face with worshipful hands, Hutch gave his partner such a reverent kiss Starsky felt like The Birthday God.

So he picked up a couple of petals, sprinkled them in Hutch's hair like pixie dust, and said, "Pop another balloon."

His magic spell must have worked, because Hutch laughed, stopped picking up petals, and said, "Which one should I pop next?"

"They're you're balloons, Babe. Pop away!"

A hand carved fishing lure, painted Torino red, fell out of the next balloon when it exploded.

"We'll use it to catch something when we go deep sea fishing."

"I thought this was going to be a pleasure cruise," Hutch quipped, the expression on his face ornery with lust.

"I can play with your rod and reel while you lean against the rail waiting for the fish to bite," Starsky suggested. "We'll spray the waves with your semen and see how many mermaids we can attract. Then we'll invite them to come aboard and have an orgy."

"No way!" Hutch objected. "I want you all to myself, Stud Muffin."

"One order of Stud Muffin for breakfast coming up!" Starsky said.

"I still want those pancakes," Hutch warned him.

"You'll get 'em Goldilocks. Never fear."

"Last balloon in here," Starsky said as Hutch grabbed the black balloon and popped it.

Expecting something silly like coffee beans when he heard something rattle inside the balloon, Hutch was surprised to see a small medallion fall out of the black balloon when he popped it. One side of the medallion bore the intricately carved image of a sea horse. The other side of the medallion bore the intricately carved image of a starfish.

"This is beautiful Starsk."

"I'm glad you like it," Starsky murmured as he opened the bench seat across from them and took out a small tube of spirit gum; an adhesive actors used to keep fake facial hair glued to the skin to disguise their appearance. Squeezing a little bit onto the side of the coin where the image of the starfish had been engraved, Starsky flicked Hutch's open shirt out of the way and wantonly popped the snap on those tight white shorts. Then he pressed the medallion into Hutch's navel and held it there until the spirit gum solidified while they kissed.

"Sexy…" Starsky murmured as he admired his handiwork. "I've always wanted to buy you something you could wear in that belly button. Something that says you're mine that no one else can see."

"Will you wear it for me when we're on patrol?" Starsky asked Hutch between kisses as he fondled his partner's balls through the white shorts.

"As long as you promise to reach across the seat and tease me like this."

"I'll keep you hot and horny for me all day." Starsky promised.

Groaning eagerly, Hutch was suddenly straddling his lap like an exotic dancer now too.

Starsky loved having his arms full of ardent, insatiable Hutch.

But letting the smitten blond rub that long, luscious cock against furry washboard abs was a prescription for ejaculation.

"Oh… That feels incredible…" Hutch raved as he undulated ecstatically in Starsky's arms.

The rippling muscles that sculpted Starsky's torso tantalized the surging tissues inside his cock. His balls felt like they were screaming with desire. 

"You're incredible," Starsky assured him as he captured Hutch's sublime face between his hands and placated him with insistent kisses until he was finally subdued.

"Don't make me stop," Hutch protested dreamily.

"I have to, Baby Blue. This is the only change of clothes I hid in here. We can't wander around the pier naked or covered with lust. We'll get arrested."

Gently thumbing the drooling head of the sea serpent nestled between Hutch's legs, Starsky admired his partner's cock and said, "You can rub that big beautiful beast all over me when we get to the boat, Moby."

Laughing, Hutch raked his fingers through Starsky's curls and kissed him repeatedly as he enjoyed being fondled by those warm inquisitive hands.

"What kind of boat did you rent, Starsk?"

"A motorized sailboat," Starsky murmured between kisses.

"Sounds great!" Hutch replied enthusiastically, giving his cock an affectionate little pat as he carefully tucked himself back into those tight white shorts.

Raking his sticky fingers through Hutch's blond hair was a decadent delight that turned them both on. The naughty, possessive gesture made Starsky feel territorial and it made Hutch feel anointed.

Hutch felt doubly blessed when he sensuously licked the trickle of his cum off Starsky's belly. The dark whorls of hair that peppered that chiseled torso tickled his tongue in the most beguiling way.

"You missed a spot," Starsky teased, nodding towards the zipper-busting erection that was straining the fly of his denim cutoffs.

"I didn't miss a thing," Hutch assured him. "You're the one who wants to take this show on the road."

Opening the door of the limo, Hutch gestured towards the pier with a flourish and said, "Let's see you walk with THAT one."

"Think I can't?" Starsky sassed, accepting the dare by pushing Hutch onto the seat across from him.

"In your face!" Starsky gloated as he gave Hutch an excellent view of his wriggling ass on his way out the door.

"Don't tempt me, Partner," Hutch mumbled as he gave that luscious rump a surreptitious pinch when he climbed out of the limo.

Laughing as he watched Starsky squirm, Hutch enjoyed the view again as he watched Starsky try--unsuccessfully--to resist the urge to adjust his genitals in public.

"Oh, shut up," Starsky grumbled as he got his raging erection into a more comfortable position so he could lead the way. Hutch gestured towards the pier again with another hand flourish and said, "After you…"

Hutch couldn't--or wouldn't--stop giggling. 

Smiling as he led the way, Starsky looked over his shoulder impishly and said, "Enjoyin' the view?"

"Oh yeah," Hutch gloated.

Screeching to an abrupt halt, Starsky grabbed his smirking partner and said, "Get up here."

When Hutch was beside him, Starsky said, "The pier's not THAT narrow. We can walk side-by-side."

"I know," Hutch murmured. "I was just checking out your ass."

"Is it still back there?"

Laughing heartily, Hutch said, "If it wasn't you'd do a back flip." Looking around to make sure no one was nearby first, Hutch gave Starsky's backside a loving caress.

"You've got great ballast, Starsk."

"I got big 'nads too," Starsky boasted.

"I know," Hutch sighed dreamily.

Leaning closer as they stopped walking for a moment, Hutch looked deep into Starsky's eyes in the moonlight and said, "I can't wait to hold you in my arms and tease those fuzzy plums."

The sexy comment created a rush of desire so hot and compelling, Starsky almost blew a ball right there on the pier.

When Starsky suddenly closed his eyes and frantically grabbed the wooden railing of the pier Hutch felt triumphant. Hutch loved the fact that he could make Starsky's knees buckle with lust.

Those sexy bowed legs turned Hutch on. He wanted to drive Starsky to his knees with abject longing.

And he almost did.

Hutch savored every reverberation of Starsky's orgasmic moan as the wondrous sound rippled through him.

"Damn you!" Starsky cursed when he saw that ornery grin. "You're trying to make my radiator boil over before we get to the boat!"

Hutch didn't deny a thing. He just grinned like a Cheshire cat as Starsky limped a couple of steps before he got that sexy swagger in gear.

"I'm just keeping your engine torqued."

Beguiling Hutch with that rakish lopsided grin, Starsky said, "I dare ya to use your love wrench."

Hutch's lusty laughter was music to Starsky's ears.

"Talk like that is gonna get you ravished," Hutch warned him.

"Promise?" Starsky dared him like the man-child he was.

"Cross my balls and hope to fly," Hutch sassed.

Starsky's sultry chuckle made Hutch's pulse race.

They'd been walking for a while. Impatient to get to their destination, Hutch said, "Why did the chauffeur park the limo way back there? What slip is the boat in, Starsky?"

"That one," Starsky said, pointing towards a berth that contained a sleek racing yacht that looked very new and very fast.

"Are you sure? That's a yacht not a mo…mo…" Hutch sputtered as he noticed the words painted on the side of the craft.

Hutch never finished saying the words 'motorized sailboat' before his jaw dropped. Gaping as he stood on the pier looking dumbstruck, Hutch stared at the words Sea Scout and realized that the yacht was his birthday present

"Like it?" Starsky murmured.

"LIKE IT?!" Hutch roared, incredulously. "I LOVE IT!!!!"

Hutch's thunderous shout echoed through the marina like thunder.

"Ohmigod!" Hutch gasped, staring at the sleek white craft like it was an apparition in the moonlight. "It's really mine?"

Hutch looked and sounded like a little boy who'd couldn't believe his eyes. He kept staring at the yacht like he thought it was a mirage that would vanish if he dared to reach out his hand and try to touch it.

Saluting him jauntily, Starsky said, "It's all yours, Captain Blintz!"

That's when Hutch knew for sure that he wasn't dreaming.

The boat was real! The boat was his! It WAS his birthday. He and Starsky really were going to take a pleasure cruise for two! 

Just the two of them…

Alone on the beautiful new boat…

In the middle of the vast Pacific Ocean…

"Happy Birthday, Hutch."

Hutch didn't give a damn who saw him hug his best friend. He gave Starsky such an exuberant hug he lifted his partner right off the pier.

"40? Who's turning 40? I feel like I'm 12!" Hutch whooped.

As soon as he grabbed the nearest rung of the ladder, Hutch scrambled up onto the deck of the boat as quick as a swashbuckler in a pirate movie.

Laughing, Starsky scrambled onto the yacht as quickly as he could too.

Hutch welcomed him with another hug and Starsky began shouting orders to an imaginary crew.

"Hoist the main sail! Batten down the hatches! Raise the anchor! Bless the mizzenmast!"

Laughing joyously as he watched Starsky cavort on deck, Hutch looked at the people lounging on the boat next to them and said, "Too much rum."

"Time for some cake," the woman in the tropical print sarong said as she lifted her glass in silent toast. "Happy Birthday."

"A VERY happy birthday," Hutch sighed.

The End


End file.
